


reunion

by superstringtheory



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers Feels, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Grief/Mourning, OG avengers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 19:22:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14575902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory
Summary: When one of T’Challa’s people brings him a phone, Steve puts it to his ear without asking who it is, knowing even before he hears the voice over the phone that it’s Tony.





	reunion

_ “How you doing, Buck?”  _ Said jovially with not even a handshake. 

 

It would’ve taken only a blink of an eye, a snap of a finger- to do something, to say something else. Who gave a fuck about all of these yahoos standing around. It was 2018 and a man could kiss another man on the lips, especially when said man was one’s long-lost partner who’d just recovered from decades of Soviet brainwashing. 

 

But no. Nothing could be that simple, not for Steve Rogers, not for the lauded, former Captain America. He had to maintain whatever weird status quo had brought him through the last battle, as if everyone didn’t know that he’d brought down a fucking helicopter with his bare hands just to get to Bucky, to get near him again. 

 

As if everyone couldn’t tell by the way Steve must’ve looked at Bucky ( _ right? _ ), the way he talked about him, the way he almost decapitated Iron Man in an instant of blinding rage, because no one, no one could hurt his Bucky-- except Steve.

 

Steve, who was always dropping him. Steve, who didn’t run to him, didn’t crush Bucky’s body to his own, who couldn’t even get it up to tell Buck that he loved him, one last time. 

 

It’s not like they hadn’t had time. There was the jet on the way to Wakanda, but Bucky had been hollow-eyed and gun-shy, and Steve didn’t want to confuse him, didn’t want to take anything else that hadn’t been freely given. 

 

The thing is, Steve can’t even remember the last time. Was it in Brooklyn, sharing a thin-mattressed twin bed, Bucky spooning Steve from behind, his chin hooked over Steve’s bony shoulder? Or was it somewhere between France and Germany, dirt under their fingernails and gunfire in their ears, shouting together as they came because it wasn’t like they were going to make it out anyway? 

 

He doesn’t know, and for that, at the very least, he should’ve been the one to go. To drift away like ash, to unbecome. 

 

Why didn’t he come to Wakanda sooner? Why couldn’t he have predated the end of the world by a few days or hours or two fucking years? 

 

He doesn’t have a reason, and for that, if he were a god, he’d leave his ass behind in the Rapture, too. 

 

*** 

 

It’s the kind of thing he might talk to Sam about, but Sam’s blown away with the wind. Sam, and T’Challa, and Vision. Wanda. Half the people on this stupid planet. 

 

When one of T’Challa’s people brings him a phone, Steve puts it to his ear without asking who it is, knowing even before he hears the voice over the phone that it’s Tony. 

 

So. Some other group of mismatched, mismanaged supernatural freaks is down by more than half. Some wizard with the Time Stone is out of the picture. And that sweet kid from Queens-- ah, fuck. 

 

“We need to rendezvous,” Tony’d said. “ASAP. So are you getting on a jet, or am I?” 

 

And so Tony’s on his way to Wakanda, should be here any minute now. Everything’s in upheaval here, but from the sounds of it, Tony’d rather be here than in New York. 

 

“Brooklyn’s burning,” he’d said tersely. “And Pepper’s gone. So yeah, I’d probably like to get out of town.” 

 

*** 

 

Their reunion goes about as well as it could, given the fact that last time they saw each other, the day started with destroying a German airport and ended with Steve almost literally cutting Tony’s head off. 

 

There’s a brief, wild moment after Tony says, “Sorry not sorry for my mood. It’s been a long day,” and Steve has to bite back a sarcastic,  _ “Don’t worry, I won’t bite your head off” _ \-- phraseology that surprises even him. 

 

Tony’s red-eyed and jittery, and it doesn’t take too much conversation for Steve to gently place a hand on Tony’s arm and say, “You need to sleep. We can game plan after you rest.” 

 

Tony jerks his arm away as if burned, but sighs irritably. “Fine.” He shoves away from the table they’ve been sitting at, and scrubs his hand over his face roughly. 

 

“I’m sorry about--” Steve starts, and falters. “I’m sorry. About Pepper, and the kid.” 

 

Tony eyes him, looks him up and down as if scanning for sincerity. 

 

“I’m also just sorry,” Steve continues. “You know. About everything.” 

 

Steve’s loath to place it all under a blanket statement like that, but now’s not the time for itemizing hurts and transgressions, not when the ones they love most are god knows where and there seems to be little hope in getting them back. 

 

“Thank you,” Tony bites out finally, then pauses for a long time. “I know your boyfriend’s gone too. I’m sorry.” When Steve opens his mouth, Tony continues. “And don’t say he’s not your boyfriend. Please. We all saw the way you two popsicles looked at each other.” 

 

Steve bites his tongue. If it’d all been that obvious, why hadn’t he gathered Bucky up into his arms the second he saw him? Why hadn’t he come to Wakanda the minute he knew Bucky was awake and unfrozen, to let him thaw out in the company of the only person left alive who loved him?

 

He has no answer for that. 

 

“Sleep well, Tony,” is all he can say after. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” 

 

***

 

Morning finds them on opposite sides of a breakfast table, staring down a king’s feast, sipping coffee and avoiding eye contact. 

 

“You want?” Tony asks finally, waving his hand at a platter of croissants, and taking one for himself when Steve shakes his head. 

 

“Well,” Tony says later. “Now that I’ve eaten enough to feel bad about myself, I can maybe start to parse this out a little.” He leans back from the table and sighs, and the expression on his face is such that it all comes back to Steve in a rush, like blood let out of a deep cut. The reasons why he’d liked Tony to begin with- sure, he was a gazillionaire and kind of a dick. But he cared, took everything personally when it was clear so few had ever seen him as a person at all, rather than an accessory to a pile of money. 

 

Steve gulps coffee to stop himself from thinking further, because feeling sorry for Tony only reminds him of how they’re all tangled in this web, that Hydra had pulled the strings on Bucky like a puppet, and all they’d ever been was alone. 

 

So they talk. They strategize. T’Challa’s sister shows up at some point, lounging in her chair like she owns the place (and she does, now, doesn’t she? With her mother and brother in the ether, and the succession clear), and she and Tony talk circles above Steve’s comprehension about physics and the conservation of matter and energy. 

 

“I heard you got the Hulk to come out again last night,” Tony says when Natasha stalks in, hair tied back in a tiny ponytail, eyes bleary. Bruce comes in a few steps behind, and he looks more relaxed than Steve’s ever seen him. 

 

“Shut up,” Natasha says. “We were just getting reacquainted.” 

 

Tony says, “So that’s what they’re calling it these days,” and Steve has to bite his lip to stop a smile from forming. 

 

It’s almost like the way things were years ago, back when Steve was an Avenger, before his ideas about justice became warped and brittle, liable to break on impact. 

 

“Okoye and Thor have become fast friends,” Shuri tells them all, showing them tiny holograms sparring in midair. “I believe they will help us to rally together for the next battle.” 

 

Steve’s not sure he’s ready for another battle, not when he can’t look over to see Bucky running beside him, but he guesses that they’re long past anyone’s desires. This is the endgame, and Steve would rather crumble to dust than be okay with the fact that the very last thing he said to Bucky was  _ how you doing _ . 

 

So they talk. So they strategize. Eventually, Thor joins the table, too, and Steve’s losing himself a little bit in remembrances, in a sort of vague hopefulness that someday they’ll do this again, except there’ll be a metal hand in his own, an excited teen talking a mile a minute across the table, a wedding ring on Tony’s finger. 

 

He’s so far gone in this fantasy that he jumps when it happens. 

 

“Hey,” Clint Barton says suddenly, dropping down from the ceiling. “I heard you guys could use a kill shot.” 

 

***** 

**Author's Note:**

> Come visit me on tumblr at superstringtheory.tumblr.com.


End file.
